Traveling as a form of healing
I have always loved traveling. Traveling is one of my love languages, be it the idea of planning, packing and ultimately arriving at an airport to board a flight to explore a new city, or discovering something new from a well-loved city.
For five years, I was my mother’s caregiver. The Covid pandemic provided the opportunity for me to give her additional support from 2020 through the end of 2024. I moved her from my home state to a state one time zone away. And during the pandemic, I found myself traveling to see her every 3 to 6 weeks. When I would arrive at her home, there was always a wealth of responsibilities awaiting me. It quickly became clear to me that Mom was not managing her life in the ways she always had done, and so it was then time for me to embrace my responsibility as her daughter to give to her. 16 months and several health episodes including a dementia diagnosis along with continued decline later, I understood the need to move Mom back to California.
This was a stressful time as I constantly worried about her. I became her go-to person for everything. I spoke with her daily. And I quickly learned I needed to find ways to care for myself. One of the ways in which I took care of myself was to take a trip to unwind and recharge. The funny thing that no one tells you when you are a caregiver is that there is no downtime. Even in my absence, I was still responsible. Less than a year after Mom was back in California, she experienced a stroke. As family, we were forced to make decisions for her care as she could no longer live alone. Once she was settled in a care facility closer to me, I allowed myself to breathe. I questioned whether I should travel as I had a trip to Europe coming up.
My daughter convinced me I should still go, and I am thankful to her for doing so. It was really the reprieve that I needed. As I walked the streets in Edinburgh, Scotland, I recall becoming quite emotional. Scotland had been a place that my parents had dreamed of traveling to. When I returned, I visited Mom to present her with a Tartan scarf, which was Dad’s clan. She was both angry that I had been away, and overjoyed at receiving the gift.
By 2024, Mom ceased walking and became a wheelchair user. I visited her several times a week. And in between, I managed a few getaways. Some were short hops during which I visited family and friends. I rested while also being available by phone when needed. My greatest learning was that rest is the goal. By taking time for myself, I was better equipped to care for her. As a caregiver and advocate for Mom, it was tantamount for me to create a container of care for myself. Wandering the streets of Lisbon and Paris allowed me to regain a sense of autonomy.
Mom died December 7, 2024. She was my last living parent. Suddenly, there was a void in my life. I had been doing so much for so long, I was depleted. Surrounded by love and community, I got through the memorial. I had a trip to France scheduled, yet I opted to postpone travel. On Mom’s birthday, we said our final farewells to her in Estes Park, Colorado. This was her wish, and it was an honor to fulfill this final act of love.
A dear friend, Jane, invited me to visit she and her family in Kenya. Specifically, she said, come home and let us care for you. The first part of this year has taught me the power of saying yes to generosity. I had a ticket to Paris, I reasoned. Finding a flight to Nairobi would be easy. I never questioned if I should go. As I boarded my flight to Nairobi, months, if not years of stress, began to dissipate. I felt my body relax. I was met at Joao Kenyatta Airport by Jane, her husband Patrick, and their daughter Nasya. As I did the first time I visited Kenya ten years earlier, I experienced a sense of home.
My first week in Kenya, I slept 10 hours daily. I had been pushing myself so hard, I hadn’t grasped that I was slogging through, that I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained. I had been coping, albeit not well, and my body needed time to grieve and to reset. It was during my second week there that my energy shifted. I began to feel energized. I was reading, researching, and writing once more. I was safe. My needs were met. I was given space to simply be. Even as a visitor, I was fully welcomed into the household. During my final week in Kenya, I once more began to dream. In those dreams, Mom came to me. Now part of the global ecosystem, she had found me. She delivered messages of encouragement. Assuring me that I had all I needed to truly live. I emerged from those dreams refreshed. It was clear to me that I could, and would, complete estate tasks. I was also clear now that I was rested, I could explore what is next for me.
The night I departed for the next leg of my journey, I did so with gratitude for the time afforded me. I did so with more of a healed heart. I did so with hope for what is yet to come.
